The patient was the last one of the day, "Thank god," I thought to myself.
It was Friday and it had been a long day and an even longer week. My life seemed to be an endless parade of patient's, visits at the office and rounds at the hospital. I couldn't remember my last day off. As with most small cities, we were short doctor's and my life took a back seat to my patients and each emergency that came along.
My nurse had prepped the patient, taken their blood pressure, weighed them, measured their height, and then had them strip down to their underwear and lay on the examination table. As a doctor, I had been through this a thousand times before.
The nurse stuck their head into my private office and said, "The patient is ready, are you okay if I leave now, my daughter's daycare just called and said she was sick and I have to go get her?"
I replied, "Sure Nancy, this is the last patient shouldn't take long, lock the door when you leave, I have some paperwork to do afterwards, I hope she is feeling better."
"Thank you," the nurse replied and she was gone. Nancy had looked tired, as tired as I felt, the thought made me afraid to look in the mirror.
I looked over the chart and smiled when I remembered the name. This patient was as close to a "friend" as patients could be. Being the only doctor here meant long hours and not much of a personal life, but it also meant, that I knew just about everyone.
The patient was older, according to the chart, they were 54. I talked to them just about everyday, they were a courier and made deliveries here just about everyday. This particular patient, always asked me how I was, they would always listen and seemed genuinely interested, almost flirting with me. That counted for a lot, in a life that was mainly about dealing with people who only told me their problems.
Doctor's were human too; my smile was because this patient was attractive and in great shape. Examining a person was the same regardless of their condition; but someone who took care of themselves was much nicer for the doctor.
Not that I could do anything about it, I was married to my practice. This week I seemed to have been either here in the office or at the hospital without a break, I cringed thinking about all of my dead plants at home.
I pulled myself out of my chair and walked slowly to the exam room. Thinking about this patient, I have to admit, for a physical, despite my tiredness, did make my heart beat a little faster, and I felt a flicker of long forgotten excitement flare in my body.
One knock on the door and then I stepped into the room. Exam rooms were the same everywhere and this one was no different. The patient and I exchanged polite conversation or a much conversation as you could comfortably do when one person was fully dressed and the other was only wearing their underwear, a fairly tiny pair at that and nothing else, not even a gown, I noticed, trying not to appear to be staring at anything.
I wondered why Nancy hadn't given them a gown, but decided not to question it because, honestly I was enjoying the view, not too professional I thought to myself, but a little treat for me, nonetheless.
I asked the standard doctor basic questions about any issues or problems they were having and the answer was no to all of the questions, as I figured.
I was finding it a little distracting, this patient was very attractive, although older than me, and the patient was in great physical condition. They had a lean athletic body, virtually no fat except in the right places, their legs and stomach were well defined and I was finding it difficult not to stare at the chest and crotch of the patient.
That spark I had felt was building into a flame now and I found myself not nearly as tired as I was in my office, and the excitement continued to build as I proceeded through the exam. although I forced myself to stay focused, or at least as much as possible.
After several minutes, the questions turned to some of the more intimate types, about any issues with sex and those about libido. The patient replied a little embarrassedly that at the moment, saying their partner had kind of lost interest in sex and for the past couples of years or so, and in fact, the only sex they had was alone, masturbating.
I noticed the patient did not blush or seem embarrassed with that answer and without thinking I almost said, "That's a waste," but caught myself just in time. Just because I didn't say it, didn't mean that it wasn't true.
Because I was tired, my brain did not have the usual filters in place and I it was so tempting to offer to solve the problem for the patient right here and right now. My own sex life was non-existent and despite the ethical and professional consequences of having sex with a patient, even consensual, I knew it would be a mistake; however, I could still fantasize and despite my professional reservations, I could not help myself from thinking about this patient in the most carnal ways.
I tried to remember the last time I had sex and realized it had been more than a year, and since the last time I had really had great sex, I realized, I couldn't answer the question, "Damn," I said under my breath.
The patient repeated themselves before the I realized a question had been asked and I pulled myself back to reality. Answering the question, I focused again and proceeded with the exam.
After listening to the patient's heart on their chest and then on their back, I couldn't help but notice that the patient had virtually no body hair, they were almost perfectly smooth. "That is interesting," I thought to myself, although to be fair, more and more of my patient's were like this and personally I liked it, on women, and surprisingly on men too.
I almost asked the patient about this, but just as I opened my mouth, I closed it, it wasn't a medical thing, and quite frankly, I shaved myself pretty regularly because I liked how it felt and I imagined that they did as well. The feel of my clothes against smooth skin, even something as basic as fresh blankets and sheets on shaved skin felt so sexy. Just because my patient was in their 50's that was no reason for them not to enjoy that sexy feeling that I liked so much.
After asking the patient to lie on their back again, I absentmindedly wondered if ALL of their body hair was removed. Using the stethoscope, I asked the patient to breath deeply, I noticed goosebumps on their skin. I also noticed that they had their eyes closed. I listened to their body, I could see the flushed skin, their breathing was becoming more rapid, and their heart beat was getting faster.
"Could it be because of me?" I wondered.
People said I was good looking, both men and women often commented; but, I did not believe them, I thought I was kind of ordinary looking, I stayed in shape despite all of the long hours, and I tried to do the basic maintenance to my body, but I found it hard to believe that this patient might actually be attracted to me.